


Brimstone

by WriterJunkie



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterJunkie/pseuds/WriterJunkie
Summary: Ready to start her life with her fiancee,Quinn, the last thing Santana wanted to deal with was an oncoming civil war between werewolves and the mutts looking to wipe the human race.





	1. Chapter 1

“Quinn, hang up,” Santana called from the bottom of the spiral staircase, “dinner is ready.”  
She heard shuffling and could make out Quinn's fuzzy gray slippers at the top of the stairs. She walked down with her cellphone pressed to her ear. Santana scoffed, shaking her head as Quinn cut through the living room and into the kitchen. Feeling her fiance's disapproving eyes, Quinn paused at the threshold of the kitchen door holding up a finger, requesting one more minute.   
“No Kitty, I don't want to do a reading and I definitely don't want to do it in Connecticut,” Quinn paced back into the living room. “I just want to work on the third book and you already have me doing one tomorrow. No. No...fine, I'll do another one in the city. Send me the details.”   
Santana glanced over her shoulder with a glower, and a pan in hand. She watched Quinn drop her cell on the coffee table and enter, a pout on her face. Santana turned off the burner. Quinn threaded her fingers through her bangs before pinching the bridge of her nose.   
“I have to do a reading and signing,” she said.   
“That's what The Bitch has been whining about all week?” Santana mocked.   
“Do you have to refer to Kitty as 'The Bitch'?” Quinn said taking the bowl of biscuits from the counter. “She's my publicist. It's her job to set these up.”   
“The girl is like Snixx Jr and I don't like being out-shined,” Santana said as she gathered two plates from the upper cabinets. “She also has a middle school crush on you that's borderline obsessive. I'm getting serious single white female vibes. I think she's just pissed that I bagged you first.”   
“You're being ridiculous, San,” Quinn chuckled, nibbling on a biscuit as she watched Santana fill the plates with steak and mashed potatoes. “She knows we've known each other since birth and that we're getting married.”   
With a shrug, Santana dumped a spoonful of assorted vegetables on each of their plates and added a biscuit on the side from Quinn's bowl. Quinn took a seat just as Santana came over, setting the plates on the table and going back to the kitchen to collect two cups from the drying rack and a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. She returned to the table to find Quinn already eating. For a time, the sound of their cutlery on their plates filled the silence and a contented sigh Quinn made over Santana’s cooking. Looking across the table, Quinn chuckled, pausing with a forkful of mashed potato as she realized Santana already finished with her own potatoes and was halfway through her steak. She watched Santana scarf down the rest. As she cut into her last bite, Santana’s cellphone started ringing from the living room end table. Her eyes shifted toward Quinn, whose pretty features had pulled into disdain.   
“Don't answer it,” she pleaded, “it's never anything good when it's this late.”   
Santana glanced to the clock behind her on the kitchen wall, it was pretty late, then turned back to Quinn. She set her fork on her plate and slid it forward. She felt Quinn's eyes on her as she picked up her phone and read the caller ID.   
“It's Jake. He probably just wants me to come and distract Sam from trying to re-organize his stockroom again,” she said, sliding her finger across the screen and pressed her phone against her ear.  
“I need a favor,” Jake said.   
Santana's jaw clenched and she felt the edges of her mouth sink into a scowl. He never asked for anything unless it was important. Santana inhaled. Quinn watched her over her shoulder, her food untouched. Santana could see the muscles in Quinn's back and shoulders go taut as the conversation continued.  
“What is it this time?” Santana probed.   
“Mutts in the East Village.”   
“I should be getting paid,” she mumbled, then louder. “This is the third time this week I've had to save some Alpha's ass.”   
“The Alpha has given us permission to handle it so long as he comes with us. His name is Emilio and he runs a lower level pack,” Jake said. “Marley, Sam, and I will meet you at the bar.”   
It wasn't her job to help any packs but her own. However, as a visitor in New York City with no land, it's easy for Alphas to avoid getting their hands dirty in another's affairs by asking her for help. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She wanted some territory for Quinn and herself and she knew better than to disrespect an Alpha's territory.   
“I'll be over in five,” she said, hanging up.   
She returned to the table, placing a hand on Quinn's back, rubbing the tight muscles. She gave her a short kiss on her forehead. Quinn's brows sunk down into a frown. The tension in her shoulders increased further and Santana felt the muscles ripple under her hand.  
“I'll be back in an hour,” Santana said.   
“Why can't you sit this one out?” Quinn asked while the fingers of her right hand tensed around her fork.   
“Jake needs help,” Santana took a hold of Quinn's hand and squeezed it, “a smaller pack is having issues defending their territory. Besides, we love it here babe. You know I need to do this if I want to gain territory so we can stay and make this our home.”   
“Well, then, can I come with? I can use magic to help keep things under control,” Quinn asked.   
“We can't have a witch practicing on wolf territory. It could upset other packs,” Santana said.   
Quinn nodded with a slight sigh and Santana headed up the staircase to change. 

***

The bar was an underground establishment located in the party district of Lower East Side called The Den. Santana still gave Jake shit for the name, saying it was much too obvious, but she hasn't been able to change Jake's mind on the issue. He had inherited it with the passing of his mother seven years ago and functions as neutral territory for all the local packs. Santana strode down the steps and ducked her head through the archway at the bottom of the stairs. A horrendous odor of sewage and rotten meat assaulted her nose. The scent so strong it made Santana's head spin and a wave of nausea settled into the pit of her stomach. She cringed, fighting the urge to gag.   
“Liam Neeson would do it.”   
Santana chuckled, hearing the opening of Sam's rant, of his usual movie fanatic related conversations. Located across the bar, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes, presuming to be Sam, standing at the counter, and speaking with Jake's long term girlfriend, Marley. She turned to Santana and waved.   
“Santana,” Sam said. “Back me up on this.”   
She sighed and said, “You came to the wrong chick, Troutymouth. I can't stand any of the shitty movies you watch.”   
Sam's face dropped into a look of discontent. Marley laughed.   
"Taken was a good movie." He objected.  
Santana rolled her eyes, ignoring as Sam's jaw dropped.  
“Nice to see you again, Marley.” Santana greeted. “Is Jake around?”   
“He's in the back.” Marley said.   
She tried to hold her smile and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder in comfort. Sam glowered at Santana with a pout, but she had little regard to his expression. The door behind the counter, labeled stockroom, opened and Jake stepped out.   
“Good you're here.” He said, flipping the counter of the bar up and stepped out.  
As the door closed a strong swish of stench swooped out from the background. Santana's face contorted in an attempt to disregard the odor. Sam blinked, holding his breath as his cheeks were tinted red to try and hold off the smell. Marley cringed, scrunching her nose up.   
“It fucking stinks in here Jake,” Santana said with a grimace.   
“Mutts,” he said.   
“This,” she said, twirling her finger around indicating the odor filling the room, “isn't what they smell like.”   
“They've been living in a sewer for the past five months,” he replied.   
Santana frowned. The stockroom door opened again and she watched a man with sandy blonde hair enter. He had the same sickening face on him and let out a grunt as he exhaled and ran a hand down his five o'clock shadow.  
“Santana, this is Emilio,” Jake said introducing him.   
Emilio stretched out a hand as he stared at Santana, awestruck. She looked him over, taking note of the faded jeans and his slightly tilted down head, he not only led a weaker pack, but a poorer one as well. The way he carried himself showed a lack of strength a more established pack leader would never display. But, he still had his pride, he refused to break eye contact with her. His lack of strength was likely the reason he needed to ask for help, but his role as Alpha was why he was standing here.  
“I've heard so much about your pack. It's an honor to meet you and get to work with you,” Emilio said releasing her hand. “Your father is an amazing pack leader.”   
Santana gave him a pleasant smile, “How can I help you?”   
“There's been a pack of mutts hunting in my territory killing and eating humans,” Emilio shared. “I can't allow others to think my people are responsible.”   
“A pack?” Santana questioned. “Mutts don't usually travel in groups. What makes you so sure?”   
“It checks out,” Jake said. “I had Marley and Sam stop by yesterday and they found two mutts trying to break into Emilio's apartment. They managed to catch one and brought him back. It took a while, but we got him to speak.”   
Santana took note that they were empty handed. She would have at least expected a body bag if they were done dealing with the mutt.   
“Where's the body?”   
“I'm keeping it in the back until we're done with the rest of them,” Jake said leaning against the bar.   
“Then, why, exactly, do I have to be here?” Santana inquired with an arched brow.  
She would rather be spending her night quietly with Quinn as she had a busy morning at the office tomorrow. Santana crossed an arm across her chest, her jaw clenched.   
“We found out there are six more of them living just below Emilio's territory,” Jake started.   
“In the sewers,” Santana interjected with a groan, watching Jake nod.  
“It should be an easy sweep. These are weaker and unorganized mutts,” Jake said. “We need your help because there are so many.”   
“Should we have Quinn over to help?” Sam said.   
Santana shook her head and said, “I've been over that with Quinn. I told her no before, and this just solidifies that decision. She will stay out of this one, we can handle it ourselves.”   
“Mutts aren't very smart,” Marley added.   
“Mutts aren't stupid, just desperate. That can make them harder to hunt,” Santana said, exhaling.   
Mutts had nothing, no pack, and no rules. When they were ejected from their packs they were stripped of their possessions. They had no reason to play fair. What little they still owned they clung to and could be vicious in trying to regain what they once had, even if it meant stealing from another pack.   
“I had Marley and Sam scope out the sewer during the day. Our best option is to attack them from the south and corner them,” said Jake.   
“Let's get this taken care of then,” Santana headed up the stairs. 

***  
They drove a mile into East Village and parked across the street from a shoe repair store. Emilio lived in the apartment above it. The building had chipped paint on the walls and a door of splintered wood. Santana examined the property, noticing the area consisted of cheaper and smaller stores that catered to daily necessities. It lacked apartment complexes and the next home was stationed down the block on the corner.   
“This is it,” Emilio motioned, pausing at the doorway.   
Santana felt Jake's eyes on her as she continued to scan the neighborhood.   
“What is it?” he questioned.   
“There aren't a lot of houses here,” Santana said, her eyes trained on the grocery store across the street. “Something about this feels off.”  
“It is very unusual mutt behavior,” Marley said while glancing around.  
“Why do you think they're acting so strangely?” Sam asked.   
Santana shrugged, “Guess we're about to find out.”   
Emilio pushed through the group, moving toward the street.   
“The entrance is here,” he said, bending down over the sewer lid.   
He slipped his fingers through the holes on the side and lifted it with a grunt. Carefully, he dropped the cast iron lid on the sidewalk. Sam peered over the rim into the opening in the asphalt and gagged as the fumes wafted into his face. He turned his head and smirked at Santana.   
“Ladies first,” he said with a hand cupped over his nose, while the other offered up the hole in the ground.  
Santana glared at him. She went down feet first, feeling for the rungs of the ladder and began to climb down when she caught her footing. She descended with ease, but the same awful smell that had invaded her senses in the bar was twice as strong when she reached the bottom. She stood a moment in the dark. It took a second for her pupils to dilate and the darkness washed away. She spotted an archway leading to a narrower passageway ten feet ahead of her.   
“Santana,” Jake called, his head peeking over the lip of the manhole, “are you okay?”   
“I'm fine. I don't see any mutts, but I smell them,” she called softly. “At least, I think that's what some of this stench is.”   
“We're coming down, make room,” Jake said, already stepping down the first notch of the ladder.   
She waited for everyone to arrive and watched their eyes flicker an orange glow as they adjusted. Emilio turned to his left and then his right. A sharp cough from Sam caught Santana's attention as he found it difficult to withstand the stench.   
“How long do we have to stay in here?” Santana asked.   
“They shouldn't be very far,” Marley said, taking a right down the tunnel.   
Santana tilted her head up toward the ceiling and to her left asking, “How far do the sewers go?”   
“For miles, but Marley and I know the way,” Sam replied following a step behind her.   
The walk was quiet, aside from the hissing pipes fixed to the walls. A coat of slime covered the rusted pipes. Santana spotted a rat scuttling by, squeaking in fright when it came across the group. There was silence between them for some time as they trekked before they stopped in front of a rusted metal door labeled employees only. Santana took a deep breath and picked up the scent of the mutts through the stench of sewage again. She looked between Sam and Marley.   
“You're sure?” she checked, staring at the door.   
“It's where I tracked them to this morning,” Marley said. “It has to lead somewhere.”   
Santana sighed and brought her hands out at her sides. She suppressed a groan as the burn in her hands started at her finger tips and spread into her tendons. She took two deep breaths through her teeth, releasing a harsh pant just as her nails pushed out into deadly claws. She looked around to see everyone with a set of claws. Sam kicked through the door, causing it to clang against the wall. They dashed inside. Santana picked up the fumes of copper and iron that led her to six mutts, crouched in the corner, munching on three dead humans. Their hands and mouths sodden with the carnage.   
“Ugh,” Santana cringed.   
The first mutt leaped forward with a snarl. She grabbed him by the neck. He growled, his sticky fingers wrapping around her wrist as his grip tightened. With ease and utter disgust, she tossed him into a control panel and heard a sharp crack as his skull smashed into the ground. Santana felt her eardrums rattle and the pressure settle between her temples as the room was overcome with a deafening roar. The mutt nearest to her right reacted the quickest, moving fast enough to wrap his arms around her hips and tackle her to the ground. She grunted, wiggling herself from the mutt's arms as she used her left hand to grab his shoulder and push him up. Santana managed to get enough space to free her other hand and deliver a punch on to his jaw. She lashed out with two more blows before getting free and scrabbling to her feet. A loud whack sounded as her boot connected to the mutt's gut and he gasped. She watched him flinch and reach down, firmly grasping on his chin and base of the skull followed by a clean snap from his neck. The mutt dropped.   
“Santana!”   
She spun around to see a mutt grab Sam around his neck and jump onto his back. A second female mutt charged at her with a knife in hand. Santana watched as she got socked in the jaw by Marley and the girl plunged the mutt's own knife into her neck. A line of blood dripped from the bottom of her lip. The blade made a squelch as it was removed from the tender flesh. A rapid spurt of blood slid down the mutt's neck, gurgling as she slowly sank to the ground. Santana huffed.  
“Thanks,” she watched Marley smile.   
Her eyes returned to the fight, a total of four mutts remained. Sam was dealing with one, while Jake had managed to corner two toward the left of the room. Emilio had the last one. He snarled, exposing a row of pointed teeth and elongated canines before he lunged forward. His fist ripped through the mutt's chest. Sam let out a grunt, flipping his mutt over and thrust a knife into her heart. One of the mutts Jake had cornered rushed past him. Santana rushed forward, delivering a punch to the escaping mutt's face and a thin streak of blood surfaced along his cheek. She glanced at her ring, now glazed with his blood and dropped down to her knees, pinning the mutt and felt the bones in his neck snap underneath her palms. Santana stood, scanning the room a second time. A pile of dead mutts littered the ground and her friends covered in gore.   
“Hey, Jake, does your friend give discounts for bulk cremations?” Santana quipped.  
***  
Santana crossed her arms on top of the table, her thumb running over the diamond of her engagement ring habitually. She managed to wash off the blood, but Quinn would be upset if she found out she forgot to take it off before fighting a pack of mutts. From over the table, Santana glanced up to see Sam, staring at the ring.   
“How's Quinn?” he asked.   
“She'd rather I be home to help plan for the wedding, but you know how it is,” she sighed.   
Marley perked up in her seat, “How's the planning going? Have you figured out a place to have it yet?”  
Santana rubbed the side of her temple with a scowl and said, “She wants it in New York, she say it's our home, but it's pack tradition and wolf law to have it in on sacred family land, which happens to be Ohio.”  
“Why not have the ceremony in Ohio, but the legal wedding in New York?” Marley asked.   
Quinn had no traditional obligations, she was human and for the marriage to be recognized for human society New York was be the place to be. But, Santana had family traditions to keep that have been common practice through generations of wolf society that had to be followed. If they failed to do so Quinn would never be fully accepted as hers. It was an issue they hadn't settled on. The bells above the front door of The Den chimed as Jake sent Emilio home. He stationed himself at the head of the table, arms crossed over his chest. He took in a deep breath, causing his chest to visibly rise and fall as he released a heavy sigh.   
“I spoke to my friend at the crematorium. It won't be easy, but he'll take care of the bodies,” he said. “That's one less problem for us. I'll drop the bodies off with my truck.”   
Sam slapped a hand on the table as he stood from his seat.   
“Drinks!” he shouted, reaching over the bar. He looked over his shoulder to see his friends' quizzical expressions. “Come on, we're celebrating. We just took care of a bunch of mutts and helped another pack.”  
Santana rose from her chair with a shake of her head.  
“I really have to get home. I'm sure Quinn is waiting up for me, praying that I didn't die. Besides, I told her I'd only be an hour,” Santana said checking her phone to look at the time, it'd been hours. She turned to Jake as she headed to the door, “Call me if anything else comes up.”   
He nodded, “Thanks for the help.”   
The door chimed and Santana exited. 

***  
Santana found Quinn hunched over the side of the couch, her knees bunched up and against her chest. Her left hand was curled under her chin with her elbow propped on the armrest and the lamp on the side table still on, the light catching on her engagement ring. Santana quietly walked through the living room, silently slipping into the shower, washing away the grime and stench of the sewers. She returned to the living room, finding Quinn still fast asleep. Santana took a seat next to her and brushed the hair curtaining the right side of Quinn's face back. She watched her face scrunch and her lids move before she let out a soft groan and leaned over to the right.   
“Santana,” she murmured, her eyes starting to squint and open.   
“Hey,” Santana hushed with a smile as Quinn's eyes focused on her.   
The gleam of the light caused the green and brown flecks of her hazel eyes to shimmer. Santana looked her over, taking in her delicate features. She bit her bottom lip, stroking Quinn's cheek.   
“What time is it?” Quinn mumbled.   
“Let's go to bed,” Santana said, looping her arm around Quinn's waist, her right arm under her knees.  
She shifted Quinn into her arms with ease and steadily exited the living room, heading to the spiral staircase. Quinn was snuggling against her as she ascended the stairs. She gently placed Quinn on the bed. Santana set her ring on the dresser and joined Quinn under their quilt. She rolled on to her side, watching Quinn drift in and out of consciousness. Santana reached over, pressing her lips against soft pink ones. She watched Quinn slowly smile, finally falling fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn tapped her pen against the table as she looked up at the remaining line. Kitty placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to speak quietly.   
“We're almost done,” she said, “just three more.”   
Quinn watched a security guard usher a young boy forward, he was clutching one of her books to his chest. She couldn't stop smiling at him as she watched how he grinned and started to bounce excitedly, as he walked up to her table, his mother in tow. Quinn chuckled, taking the book and flipping open the cover.   
“Hi, what's your name?”   
“Andrew. I really like your book,” he said with a wide smile. She waited, seeing him tap his chin. “I was wondering, where do you get your ideas?”   
Quinn smiled softly, “They're the adventures and mishaps I had with my best friend when I was little.”   
“I wish I had adventures like that.”   
She looked at his mother as she opened the book to the flyleaf. His mother looked slightly worried at the idea of her son getting into mischief much like the book he's been fawning over. Quinn leaned closer over the table and whispered, “Sometimes, all you need for an epic adventure is a little imagination.”  
She watched his eyes sparkle with excitement. Quinn scrawled her signature across the page with a reminder to allow his imagination to take him on his travels and handed it back. She looked up toward the mother who had a prideful smile of her own and thanked Quinn before leaving. The boy kept his reverant eyes on the signature as his mom lead him away from the table. She finished the last two signings and made her way to the back of the bookstore.   
“You did great, there were more people here today than I was expecting,” Kitty said. “You're on your way. You've got a decent fanbase!”   
Laughing as she put on her coat and pulled her purse up her shoulder, “I'm gonna head home. Thanks again Kitty. Send me the details for the next one,” Quinn said. “Pleeease, don't schedule it too soon.” 

***  
She decided to make a quick stop on the way home at her favorite bookstore, Witch's Brew. Entering the shop, the chimes hanging above the doorway sounded. She spotted the clerk, Rachel, at the counter. Quinn smiled in her direction.   
“Quinn,” Rachel greeted while ringing up a customer.   
Quinn waved before strolling down the first aisle. She had been friends with Rachel a little over a year, since she and Santana first moved to New York. It was the first bookstore she had come across that had every book and ingredient she could possibly need for her Wiccan practices. When Rachel wasn't starring in Broadway shows she was a young witch in training. A store like this was rare back in Ohio where she had to keep such practices and abilities under wraps from her parents and the rest of their small minded town. They were conservative and traditional Christians and witchcraft was definitely not appropriate dinner conversation. She spent most of her teenage years self-taught through the use of books she bought online, but this place was like a wonderland. It was everything she had been looking for. Quinn browsed through the top row of books and settled on one with a green leather cover. The register dinged. She heard the tap of Rachel's heels as she entered the aisle.  
“It's nice to see you again, it's been a while,” she said.  
Quinn looked up at her friend, smiling at her as she approached, “I know, but you were working on your show. We should do brunch tomorrow and catch up, if you're free?”  
“That sounds great, you know when I'm not in rehearsals I'm pretty free,” Rachel said, smiling. “So, what can I help you with today?”  
“I'm looking to expand my collection of spells,” Quinn said, flipping through the first three pages of the spell book, frowning lightly and putting it back on the shelf, “and I need to restock my usual ingredients.”   
“A shipment came in this morning and we have a new stock of books you might be interested in,” Rachel said, leading Quinn to the back storeroom.  
Three crates of books littered the floor, in the process of being sorted, and two other boxes of herbs inside glass bottles and plastic bags. Rachel sifted through the books before taking out three hardcovers. Quinn took the first one and flipped through several pages.   
“These are defensive spells,” Quinn noted while closing the book.  
“You've been looking into a lot of protection spells I figured you probably already have stronger ones,” Rachel said, handing her a second book. “This is a book on potions and the other is on our history.”   
Quinn heard her cell buzz from her purse and picked up her phone.  
Santana  
Where are you?  
Quinn  
Witch's Brew  
Santana  
When will you be done?  
Quinn  
I'll be home in ten minutes.  
She glanced back at Rachel.   
“I'll take the one on potions, thank you, Rachel,” she said looking back to the boxes of herbs.  
“Do you want some wolfsbane as well?” Rachel asked.  
“Yes, some saffron too, please.”  
Quinn  
I'm leaving now.  
Rachel promptly left the room. Quinn followed her to the register where her phone went off again.  
Santana  
Pizza for dinner tonight.   
Quinn  
What happened?  
Santana only ordered take out when she had a difficult time at the office or was too exhausted to cook. The register sounded. She handed Rachel her card.   
“Thanks, Rachel. I'll text you about brunch when I get home,” Quinn said.  
“Take care Quinn,” Rachel said watching her exit the store. 

***  
Quinn's keys jingled in the lock and the door swung open. Santana sat on the couch in her pjs with an open pizza box beside her laptop on the coffee table. Quinn came over, dropping her bag beside the table.   
“Are you going to tell me why we're having junk food for dinner?” Quinn asked, settling beside Santana and lightly kissing her cheek.  
“Is that Quinn?”  
She turned toward the computer to see Maribel and Xavier sitting on the screen. She leaned forward, grinning as she greeted the people she grew up believing were her second parents.  
“Mami, Papi, I'm so excited for our visit!”  
“Mija, how are you? You look thin. Santana, aren't you feeding her?” Maribel said.   
Xavier chuckled, “Maribel she's fine. Quinn, you look beautiful.”   
Quinn scooted closer to Santana and took a slice of pizza as Santana rolled her eyes at her parents, not feeling the need to tell them that she is, in fact, taking care of her girl.   
“Santana told us about your book signing, how did it go?” Maribel asked.   
Quinn took a bite of her slice, “It went well. My series is picking up.”   
“You've had a better day than Santana,” Xavier said with a light chuckle.   
Quinn look over to Santana.   
“Is that why you ordered in and want to be a couch potato tonight?” she asked, watching Santana sigh.   
“I don't even know why I wanted to be a physical therapist,” Santana whined, dropping the crust of her pizza on her plate. “I had nothing but a bunch of complainers all day. I'd rather spend my office hours putting up with Quinn.”  
“Hey, what do you mean 'put up' with me?” Quinn teased stroking a hand down the back of Santana's head, brushing her fingers through black locks.   
“Mija, what were you saying about those mutts?” Maribel asked.   
“I took care of them with Jake and his friends. They won't be a problem anymore, but something about the whole thing was weird... Beyond the oddity of an actual pack of mutts. Papi, the area that the bodies were found wasn't residential, there were just shops around, it wouldn't be good for hunting. They would have to hunt elsewhere and bring the bodies back to drop them there. They also used knives on us.”   
“Weapons?” Xavier mulled over the information for a minute, “They aren't following any of our laws. Do you think they were trying to frame that Alpha?”  
Santana lobbed her had back and forth as she thought of what she had seen the previous night, “I don't know. It feels like maybe something is happening though... But, for now, we've taken care of it.”  
“Good, in no time you'll have territory of your own. I'm proud of you mija,” Xavier said, grinning. “We have to go now, but we're looking forward to seeing you this weekend. I love you both.”   
Santana and Quinn waved, watching the screen fade out and Santana closed her laptop. She picked up a second slice and finished it quickly after. With a grunt, she placed the crust down and patted her stomach.  
“Ugh, I feel so fat now,” she complained.   
Quinn laughed, finishing her first slice and wiped the crumbs off her hands with a napkin.   
“You're the one with the super metabolism. You won't gain anything,” she said. “So, work?”   
Santana groaned and stood.   
“I would rather not talk about it anymore,” she said, curling an arm around Quinn's hips and the other around her shoulder. “Cuddle with me.”   
She easily lifted Quinn into her arms, cradling her and zipped up the stairs. Quinn laughed, keeping her arms around Santana's neck. She was plopped onto the bed and Santana flopped on top of her. She shifted, stroking Santana's hair.   
“You know, I've been thinking about the wedding,” Santana whispered.   
“Yeah?”   
She nodded, loosening the first two buttons of Quinn's blouse.   
“Let's have the wedding in New York,” Santana said, moving on to the third button. “But, we'll need to go back home for the bonding ceremony. I want to be yours in the eyes of the humans and for you to be mine in the eyes of the wolves. Plus, my parents would love to see our ceremony, especially since I'm next in line for Alpha.”   
“So, two weddings?” Quinn asked, watching Santana nod and allowing a smile to spread on her face,“We both get what we want.”   
“Good, now less talking,” Santana grinned, removing Quinn's top and working her hands to the back of her bra.   
Quinn pulled Santana forward by the collar of her shirt and sealed their lips in a tender kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Emilio snorted, startled from his sleep. He scowled, seeing the rays of the afternoon sun peek through the curtains of his living room. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, blinking at the flickering TV in front of him. He picked up an open beer can and shook it, frowning when it was empty. He sighed, bracing on the armrest of his lounger and got up. His muscles ached from the previous night and absentmindedly, scratched at his stubble. He stretched his arms above his head as he padded through his dingy little apartment and took a beer can from his fridge. He took two large gulps and burped before pulling out the case and bringing it into the living room. He set it on the ground beside his seat. A knock erupted from the front door. With a grunt, he moved toward the door and swung it open.  
Finding a woman in the hallway who smelled like a werewolf, “Can I help you, did Jake send you?” he asked.  
She was small in stature, slim. She smiled and shoved the door open, rushing inside. Emilio stumbled back, started by her use strength. She clamped a hand around his neck and pinned him against the wall.   
“Who are you?” he ground out as well as he could.   
She kicked the door closed with the back of her heel. He watched her eyes flicker orange and she grinned, exposing a set of canines. Emilio coughed.  
“The boss sent me to tie up some loose sends,” she said.   
“W-Wait!” Emilio gasped.   
***  
“Shots!” Sam yelled, tossing the glasses along the table.   
Santana sighed and wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist. She handed the first tiny cup to Quinn.  
“What is it with him and shots?” she asked.   
“One track mind,” Jake said.   
He gave Marley a cup and draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in against his chest. Sam scoffed and placed a plastic bag on the table. He took a fist full of the powdered herb and added a bit to everyones' shot but Quinn's. He picked up his cup. Quinn chuckled. He brought it into the center of the table and grinned as everyone followed.   
“To some awesome ass kicking last night!” he declared.   
The glasses were clinked together and knocked back. Sam sighed and slammed his glass onto the table. Santana cringed, gulping down the grittiness of the herb. The chalky texture was something had she never enjoyed, but wolfsbane was the only thing strong enough to get a wolf drunk. Their healing abilities and fast metabolisms making it nearly impossible to consume enough alcohol to even get a buzz.   
“Careful,” Santana teased, “we all know you can't hold your liquor, Trouty. We don't want you sleeping in the supply closet with a bucket over your head again.”   
“Hey, it was one time!” Sam cried. “Besides, we there were six of them and we kicked their asses!”  
A light gasp was heard from Quinn before she turned and smacked Santana in the arm. “Six of them? Why didn't you call me to help?” she cried.  
Santana leveled a glare at Sam, growling out, “Thanks a lot Trouty-mouth,” turning to Quinn with a whine, “Baby, it was nothing, we won! And, it was down in the gross, disgusting, stinky sewers! The seeewers, babe, an enclosed space! You know your powers aren't the best in enclosed spaces.”  
Laughter erupted from the group as Santana pouted. Jake collected the cups.   
“I'm just going to clean these up,” he said, heading to the back bar and away from their bickering. He gave Marley a quick peck before leaving the table.  
“So, I found your book while I was out shopping Quinn,” Marley said, interrupting and attempting to distract Quinn. “Are you working on another?”  
Jake joined them with another round of shots and beers. Sam jumped on the shots and finished his and cranked off the top of a beer. Santana opened two bottles and gave one to Quinn.   
“Yeah, I just had a signing,” she said.  
“Well, I bought it. It was the second one though, do I need to read the first one to get the secon-,”  
Marley was cut off by Santana, “Noooo. Don't read it! Where is it? Give it to me.”  
Quinn laughed at her fiance's antics.   
“She's very sweet in it,” she answered smirking as she replied to Marley's unasked question as to why Santana was so opposed to her reading the book.  
“Well, now I have to read it,” Marley said as she joined in on Quinn's laughter while Santana started to try to guess where she could find it.  
Sam perked up and pointed toward the door of the bar. Jake turned around to see a man stumble through the bar and scan the room. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. He staggered over to Jake, out of breath and covered in sweat. His hands were shaking and his face pallid.   
“J-Jake?” he gasped. “You helped my Alpha, Emilio?”   
“Yeah, we helped him out yesterday, what's wrong?” Jake asked.   
“It's my Alpha!” he cried. “I hadn't heard from him all day. I knew you were going to take care of the mutt problem our pack was having, so, I went over to his place and...he's dead. Someone killed him. I didn't know what else to do, can you help us, please?”   
Everyone looked between each other shocked. Jake stood and pulled his phone from his pocket.   
“Of course, I'll see if I can get another pack to take you guys in, hopefully all together,” he said, opening his phone, “how many of you are there?”  
“Nine of us now,” his voice barely audible.  
“Killed?” Sam whispered.   
Santana glanced at Jake as he mumbled over the phone then back at the distraught werewolf who stood in front of him. He nodded a few times and hung up. He walked back to the table.   
“I have a place for Emilio's members,” Jake said. “It's possible who ever killed him might try to get the rest his pack as well. Sam, Marley, I need you both to go to his apartment.”   
They stood and rushed out the door. Quinn rubbed a hand down Santana's back.   
“Are you okay?” she asked.   
Santana frowned and gulped.   
“I should help,” Santana said, her hands clenched into a fists.   
She turned to Quinn, her sight blurred as her eyes flooded with tears. Quinn pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. Santana stared stunned at the table.   
“It's fine,” Jake said, “I can round them up, he should have contacts for them,” he nodded his head toward the panicked werewolf a little ways off. “You two should head home, try to get some rest, we'll need Quinn's help later. I promise to call you if anything important comes up.”  
Quinn took Santana by the wrist and pulled her up to her feet and dragging her out the door. 

** *

“I can't believe it,” Sam said, standing in front of Emilio's apartment. “Who would do this to an Alpha?”   
Marley shook her head, clear lines of sadness over her face. Sam let out a huff, the disbelief still unable to settle on such a situation. There were rules and ways of claim another's pack or challenge an Alpha, but to kill an Alpha while he was off his guard and without a proper declaration to the Alpha and his pack.... Everything about this was suspicious.   
“Those mutts had to be more than an unusually organized group,” Marley said. “We better head inside before anyone sees us.”   
They entered the complex and read over the numbers on the doors as they wandered down the hall. They paused, at the end of the hall on the left one of the doors was slightly ajar. Marley glanced at Sam who gulped and she gripped the knob before quietly pushing the door back. She stepped over the threshold and found a pool of blood in the doorway to the kitchen. She walked over and cringed. Emilio laid face up on the floor, claw marks slashed his shirt, tearing it and staining it with blood. Marley came closer and frowned, seeing a gaping hole in his neck where his blood had all seeped out.   
“Whoa,” Sam gasped.   
“Sam, look around to see if anything was left behind,” Marley said. “I'll call Jake.”   
He nodded and headed into the living room. Marley sniffed around the kitchen, it was a mess, covered with all of Emilio's pots and broken plates and glasses. The only thing she could see clearly were the footprints left in the flour from the torn bag at Emilio's feet. She inhaled deeply again a moment, then pulled out her cell.  
“Hey, it checks out,” Marley said. “Emilio is dead. It's definitely a wolf attack.”  
“You're sure?” Jake said.   
“His throat was ripped out. It doesn't smell like anyone the mutts recently came into contact with. The scent is different this time. A female,” Marley said.   
“Anything else?” Jake asked.   
Marley reached down and lifted Emilio's hand by his wrist. A set of black claws stuck out from his finger tips. She put his hand down and Sam returned, standing in the doorway. He shook his head.   
“He didn't go down without a fight,” Marley said, “other than that it's clean.”   
“Okay, I'll speak to one of my guys to forge a death certificate and make a few calls to his job so there won't be any questions,” Jake said. “I'll have Santana and Quinn look over the place first thing in the morning.” With a heavy sigh Jake said, “Bring him back with you, we can't leave him there.”   
They hung up and Marley sighed.   
“Jake wants us back at the bar,” she said. “The least we can do is take in any of Emilio's pack members once they hear the news.”   
Sam gave the apartment one last glance and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana watched Rachel and Quinn chat, going on about Rachel's plays and current auditions. The talk consisted of names she either didn't know or didn't care about, but Quinn was knowledgeable enough about the plays. Santana groaned., they had been at the cafe for five minutes and still hadn't even placed their orders. A few more minutes passed and during a lull in their conversation Quinn made her way to the register. Santana glared across at Rachel, who had her eyes glued to Santana, captivated, as she sat across from her. A look of curiosity and bewilderment filled Rachel's doe eyes. Rachel was a friend that she has never been willing to acknowledge, from the very first day Quinn introduced them to each other. Primarily, because the girl would not shut up about singing, Broadway, or witchcraft, the flow of which was only ever hindered by her plethora of questions, all related to werewolves. She was a bookworm and that meant everything she knew, or thought she knew, was from books, some of which were quite outdated.  
“Stop,” Santana said.   
Rachel glanced down at her folded hands. Quinn returned from the register with a tray of drinks and pastries for them and a sandwich for Rachel.. She watched the familiar conversation unfold, took a seat and silently munched on her scone, dispensing the coffee and food. Santana took a long sip from her caramel latte and took a bite from her muffin. Rachel perked up in her seat and took a sip from her own mug, leaving her sandwich alone.  
“What?” Rachel deflected, trying to hide that she'd been staring.   
Santana peered at Rachel. Quinn played with the handle of her mug.   
“We've been over this already,” Santana complained. “I'm a werewolf, big deal. Move the fuck on.”   
“But, it's just...” Rachel hesitated, her eyes widening in wonder, “I have so many ques-”   
“No.”  
“Babe, Rachel's our friend,” Quinn said, raising a brow in her direction.   
Santana scoffed.   
“She's your friend,” she said.   
“I don't mean to pry, but my kind have never been given a chance to speak with a wolf. It's fascinating. When did it become okay for wolves to marry humans?” Rachel asked.  
Santana's jaw clenched and Quinn gulped, sliding a hand across the table and onto her fiance's crossed forearms to soothe her. Rachel patiently waited for a response, unaware of the tension between them.  
“Um, Rachel,” Quinn started.   
Santana's cellphone pierced through the silence. She felt the knot in her shoulders return. Quinn moved her seat closer to Santana's, shifting her hand up Santana's arm to her shoulder as she answered it.  
“You were right the other day, something about this is shady, can you come to the bar?” Jake said. “Quinn needs to look at the apartment, we couldn't get anything but a new scent.”   
“There's no way I'm letting Quinn go to that place alone,” Santana refused.   
Jake sighed and said, “Fine. Come when you're both done. Marley and Sam didn't touch anything when they went to check it out, but they moved Emilio back to the bar with them. There's still blood, so warn her.” Jake let out another strained sigh, “We need to get on this as soon as possible.”   
Santana hung up and Quinn stared at her, nervously biting her lip.   
“That was Jake, we need to go,” she whispered. “He's sure you can use a spell to get a better look at the apartment and I'm coming with you.”   
Santana offered Quinn her hand and helped her stand.  
“Rachel should come with us,” Quinn said, watching Santana still and turn around.   
“What?” she asked.  
“Rachel is stronger and better trained than I am,” Quinn said. “If we work together we can get more out of the spell. I understand you don't like witches in wolf business, but we'll get more if we work together, please?”  
Santana looked over Rachel, who awkwardly smiled at her. She groaned and turned back to Quinn.   
“Fine, but I should warn you,” she agreed. “There's blood. Let's go.”   
“I'll need to grab a few ingredients at home first,” Quinn said.  
Rachel looked to Quinn startled.  
“She's kidding about the blood, right?” she whispered.  
“Come on.” 

***

Santana cringed, picking up the sharp smell of blood. With steady strides, she paused in the kitchen doorway. She turned back to Quinn. She frowned, seeing the state of the house and the blood that was still on the floor, but the body was gone, just as Jake had said. The mess started from the doorway, a series of scratches along the wall and straight into the kitchen. Santana took a deep breath. She turned around when another powerful smell from behind her blocked her senses. She looked to Rachel's stricken face.  
“What happened here?” she asked.   
“A friend of Santana's was murdered last night,” Quinn answered.  
“What? This is a crime scene. What are we doing here?” Rachel panicked.   
Santana groaned.   
“Wolves take care of wolf business, what do you think would happen if a human cop came here?” Santana grumbled. “Now, calm down. Your fear is making it difficult to pick up anything.”   
“Fear has a smell?” Rachel whispered.   
Santana released a low growl behind closed lips. Quinn led her a few paces out of the kitchen and Santana examined the room again. When the fear dissipated, Santana took a few more deep breaths.   
“Another wolf did this, I know their scent now. Are you sure you can do something about it?” Santana asked.  
Quinn entered the kitchen and paused at the counter. She stared at the puddle of blood, her face wan as she nodded.  
“I can do a sight spell. It might be able to show us something we can't see,” Quinn said. “But, the longer we wait to do it the less it'll show us.”   
Santana stood by the kitchen table as Quinn pulled out a mortar and pestle from her purse and several small glass bottles. Rachel scurried over and measured out the herbs into the bowl before grinding them to powder and setting them alight with a match. She joined hands with Quinn and they muttered a spell over the smoldering bowl several times. The ingredients smoked up and whisked through the room. The wall and floor started to glow. A clear vibrant red handprint with claws appeared on the wall, but there was a second pair, smaller and thinner. They leaned in and studied the two sets of footprints on the ground. The first clearly Emilio's, as he wore boots the night before. The other set in comparison was smaller, much more petite. The tread appeared to be standard sneakers. The prints intertwined along the floor in what looked like a complicated dance and led to the doorway. Emilio's trail ended in the hall and the smaller one remained. They followed it out through the hall and to the pavement where it cut across the street then vanished.  
“It stops here,” Rachel said.   
“What do you mean? You can't see anything else?” Santana asked, curiously watching Rachel shake her head.  
“No, wait,” Quinn cut in before Rachel could speak, sounding distracted as she concentrated. “I see something... It's a car... a van, I think.”  
Rachel turned to her astonished and back at the street, squinting as if to try and see what Quinn was picking up.   
“Do you have a license plate?” Santana asked.  
“No, it's hard to see, but the van is black, or something dark,” Quinn responded. “That's all I can see.”   
“That doesn't exactly narrow down our search,” Santana sighed. “This is New York, there are thousands of black vans in the city. Is there a way of finding this van?”   
“That would require stronger magic,” Quinn said.   
“We're skilled, but not that powerful yet,” Rachel said.   
Santana sighed.   
“I'll call Jake,” she said, fishing her cellphone out of her pocket.   
She stepped a few paces away from the pair of witches and Rachel looked to Quinn, still surprised.  
“How did you do that?” she asked.   
“Do what?” Quinn replied.  
“See the car.”   
Quinn looked back to the direction of the car then Rachel.   
“You didn't see it?” she asked, puzzled.  
Rachel shook her head.   
“That was all you,” she said. “I think we should talk Quinn. Come see me at the bookstore some time. Soon.”   
Santana shut her phone and joined them again.  
“Alright, let's get out of here,” she said. “Jake wants us back at the bar.” 

***  
Santana entered The Den with Quinn. She had dropped Rachel off back at the bookstore before arriving. Jake stood in front of the bar with Sam and Marley.   
“I trust everything is sorted out with Emilio's pack members?” Santana asked.  
“We just took the last member to a friend of mine who agreed to take them in,” Jake said. “They'll have to go to the council and report the murder and request a new Alpha.”   
Santana sighed, her face shifted into a frown.   
“These packs agreed to protect them until they can safely reach the council,” Jake added. “It's the best I can do.”   
Santana huffed and shrugged. There wasn't anything else anyone here could do. The fate of the rest of the pack was in Jake's friend's hands. She had no reason to doubt Jake. He'd made connections with other packs through out his years of owning this bar and they were good people. The idea of just having to sit by and see what happened to them made her unsettled. Quinn placed a hand on her lower back. She glanced back at Quinn gravely.   
“Let's start with what we know,” Jake said. “The attack wasn't from within the pack, but Emilio's members have no idea who would have a motive to kill him. I think the best way to search for answers is to speak to other mutts.”  
“We don't have a name?” Santana asked. She watched them shake their heads. “All Quinn could come up with is that a van was parked outside of his home and she thinks it's black.”   
Jake rubbed a hand under his chin and frowned. His brows pinched together perplexed on the situation. The van was a lead, but it was small. Sam looked between them.   
“I have a place,” he said, “I lived long enough with them that I can still get in.”   
“What are you saying Sam?” Santana asked.   
He tapped his hands against the table and clenched his jaws.   
“An underground fight club,” he said. “I can get in, but the only person they would allow with me is Marley. She's less recognizable than you two.”   
Santana frowned. Jake moved away from the counter, alarmed.   
“And what exactly do the rest of us do?” she asked, “Sit back and wait for you to return?”   
Sam shrugged.   
“You can wait outside. I just know with Santana having something of a reputation here and the pack she came from and Jake with his neutral bar people will talk,” Sam explained. “Mutts stick with other mutts. I used to be one, so I have some cred.”   
Santana scoffed and shook her head. Jake brushed a finger along his chin, contemplating. He tucked a hand under his chin and nodded. Santana looked the most frustrated by such a suggestion.  
“I can't allow you to do this alone, Marley has her mother to worry about,” Santana complained.  
“I don't agree with this either, “ Jake replied, wrapping his arm defensively around Marley's hips. “ But it's the only revenue we have right now,” His jaw clenched and he turned to Marley. “Are you okay with this?”   
His eyes searched Marley's features, his brows pinched together in worry. Her hand rested on to his forearm, stroking a thumb over his skin.  
“Yeah, I can deal with it,” she said.   
Jake nodded and gazed back at the group. Santana puffed out another sigh.  
“It's settled,” he said, “Santana, you'll come with me. We'll go see if we can find a congregation of mutts who're willing to speak.”  
Jake kissed Marley, giving her one last concerned look.   
“Be careful, okay?” He said.  
“I'll make this quick.” She said.   
Sam left out the back with Marley and Jake headed toward the front entrance. Santana sighed and looked back to Quinn.   
“Are you going to be okay?” Quinn asked.  
Santana crossed her arms over her chest with a clear glare.   
“It's the only thing we have,” she said. “What about you? You just saw a crime scene.”   
Quinn's hand clenched shut, she wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself. Santana stepped to her gathering her up in a soothing hug.  
“I'm still a little on edge from it,” she admitted.“I'm gonna head back to the shop. After the spell Rachel said she had something she had to talk to me about.”  
“Do you need a ride?”   
“I'll be fine. It's a few blocks from here,” Quinn said. “I already texted to see if she's there. I'll see you back at the bar?”   
Santana leaned down and kissed her.  
“Call me if anything happens.” 

***  
Quinn took a deep breath, staring at the bookshop door for a second. She'd been texting Rachel on her walk. Rachel had asked her mentor to meet with Quinn. If what Rachel had implied in her texts was true, then Quinn hadn't the slightest idea what to expect from her meeting. Would it be a hidden power she couldn't control? Finally getting the chance to meet her teacher was an honor, Rachel always said she was busy. Her teacher would be the only one strong enough to help her understand where her powers lie. She entered and Rachel, was at the register.   
“Quinn, thanks for coming,” she said, walking from behind the counter, “Ms. Holiday is in the back, waiting for you.”   
***  
Santana propped her elbow on the arm rest against the car door and leaned her head on her fist. She switched through several news stations to keep the tension in her shoulders down. The past stops were a bust as a majority of the mutts refused to talk and those that stepped up didn't have any leads. Jake refused to allow Santana to rough them up and had the car loaded with a box of food. It should be enough to get someone to talk, he was sure of it. Santana left the radio alone and glanced at Jake. He kept his eyes on the road. When she gave him another glance he turned to her.   
“What?” He asked.  
“You really think this is gonna work?” Santana asked. “Mutts function like a weird pack, they like to keep to themselves, what makes you think they will speak to us?”   
“I get that you're not the type to just sit back, but we have Sam doing what he can,” he said. “Now the only lead we have from the other mutts is that Alex might have heard something.”  
Santana sighed. Jake steered right and slowly pulled up to an alleyway located underneath the Brooklyn bridge. He turned off the car and stepped out. Santana got the box of food from the back and followed Jake off the gravel road. A few steps from the car was a group of mutts, covered in tattered clothing and huddling on the ground in front of their tents and collections of debris. When they spotted them a few got up and left while some remained, trying to stay warm from the fire lit in a trashcan.   
“Which one of you is Alex?” Jake asked.   
A pause settled between them for a moment. Two more mutts got up and left.   
“Who wants to know?” a mutt with gray hair coughed.   
Santana pulled out a grease stained McDonald's bag. The mutt pointed to the right. Jake headed to a single mutt stationed by his cart and Santana gave the gray haired mutt the bag.   
“Alex?” Jake said.   
“Yes.”   
“We just need a moment of your time,” Jake said, “we promise we'll make it worth your while.”   
He handed him the bag of food and held out several tens in his hands.   
“What do you need?” he asked gruffly.   
Santana watched him, his body language. His shoulders were bunched up and his arms crossed, but his facial expression was genuine and lacked any of the tics to hint he was lying. He kept eye-contact with Jake during the entire conversation. She looked back across the group of homeless mutts, covered in dirt. They occasionally glanced back at Santana and Jake.   
“A pack lost their Alpha last night and his death is connected with mutts. You know that doesn't ever look good for mutts as a whole,” Jake said.  
Alex frowned. Sympathy crossed his face for the pack before it was replaced with worry for himself and his friends. He exhaled, shaking his head for a moment then nodded.  
“Okay. I haven't seen anything,” Alex said, stepping closer.   
Santana noticed Jake's muscles tighten and his hand curled into a fist. Mutts were unpredictable, even if Alex was being helpful.   
“I've heard rumors,” he said, quietly, “other mutts have spoken about someone. They told me he wants to work with us. As far as I can tell he has a pack so what would he want to talk to us for?”   
“Do you know what he looks like?” Santana asked. “Have you heard a name?”   
“No, I stick to myself. I don't think a guy like that is someone I should trust,” Alex said.   
“From what we can see so far, that's probably a smart call. Thank you for your time Alex,” Jake said, handing over the ten dollar bills.   
Alex took what was offered and Santana and Jake walked away. Santana settled back into the passenger seat.  
“I'll call Sam,”he said. 

***  
The fight club was stationed in an old abandoned factory in Queens. It took some digging, but eventually Sam had managed to get the current location. Things like this tended to move around due to it being illegal and only a selected few were invited. Sam led Marley into the pit of the club. The strong scent of sweat, blood, and rusted metal filled the air. He glanced around, squinting through the smoke of cigarettes and cigars. Aligning the side of the factory under the glassesless windows sat a scattering of mutts playing cards, drinking, and laughing. A makeshift bar stayed at the other end constructed of planks. Sam looked back to Marley.   
“Who are we looking for?” she asked.   
“An old friend of mine. His name's Andy,” Sam said.   
His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket.   
“Yeah?”   
He pressed a hand over his left ear, trying to pick up the conversation. Marley examined the building a second time and spotted a cluster of men in the far corner. Sam gave out a few responses before hanging up.   
“That was Jake. He says someone has been offering work to the mutts,” he said.   
“Another mutt?” Marley asked.  
“He thinks this one has a pack.”   
A shout rung across the club from the group of men huddled in a corner with bottles and cash in their fists. Sam motioned toward that direction. They wedged their way through the crowd and Sam stopped behind a wooden fence, drawn to the center of it. Two shirtless men were in the pit. They were covered in blood and bruises, their torsos slicked with sweat. He watched them toss punches at each other and grunting.   
“Which one is Andy?” Marley said.   
“The one with the sideburns,” Sam answered.  
A man with brown hair pulled out a knife and lunged forward. The men around them gasped and shouted. The second man, Andy, pulled out a baton. He blocked a swipe toward his face and kicked out into the guy's stomach. He hunched over and the knife was kicked out of his hand. Then he was flipped over onto his back. Andy pined him down and hit him over the head. A guard entered the ring and pulled Andy off. The man who had pulled the knife laid unconscious. Men were yelling and patting Andy on the back as he left the ring and wiped his face with a towel.   
“Hey, Andy,” Sam said.   
He draped the towel over his shoulder.   
“Sam?” he said.   
Sam smiled and he was pulled into a hug.   
“It's been a while. How are you?” Andy said, looking toward Marley. “Is this your girl?”   
“No, Marley and I are friends,” Sam said.   
Andy chuckled and shrugged, “Sure, okay.”   
He tread toward the bar and tapped the table. He was served a cup of water and a stack of bills. The bartender nodded at him and went back to the shelf of drinks. Andy walked away and took the nearest table. He ran his fingers through his medium length hair and sighed.   
“Why are you back?” he asked. “You didn't run away again did you?”   
Marley stayed silent, but glanced at Sam. Clearly she had questions about that.   
Sam gulped, sitting in front of Andy.   
“No, I have a pack now and Marley is apart of it,”he said. “Everything is fine Andy. I just needed some information.”   
Andy frowned, “You don't owe anyone money do you?”   
“I'm not in that business anymore, Andy. A friend of ours was killed,” Sam explained. “Now the pack has no Alpha and we're trying to set things right. Before he died, some mutts were trying to frame him for human murders. We took care of it, but the next day he was dead. You can't tell me that's not fishy.”   
Andy's brows arched up and he frowned.   
“Wow that's...killed?” he sighed. “What can I do?”   
“Intel tells us a few mutts have had some guy come to them offering work,” Sam said. “What can you tell me?”   
“Yeah I've heard about it,” Andy agreed, “I thought the guy was nuts. All I know is that this guy doesn't work alone.”   
“Do you know who's helping him?” Marley said.   
“A week ago a girl came in here, saying her boss is looking for recruits,” Andy said. “She'd pay those who wanted to work for her. The boss must be loaded because it was good money too.”   
“Do you remember what she looks like?” Marley pressed.  
“Some hot chick, small, with brown hair up in a ponytail,” Andy said. “She had a hell of an attitude.”   
“Did you get a name by any chance?” Sam asked.   
Andy paused for a second and nodded.   
“Yeah. Bree,” Andy said.   
Sam slid a twenty across the table and got up.   
“Thanks for your help Andy,” he smiled, patting him on the shoulder.   
“See you around Sam,” he said.   
Sam walked away from the table.   
“We at least have a name now,” Marley said, “my money is on Bree being the one we scented at Emilio's place.”   
“Let's get out of here,” Sam said.  
In the center of the factory four men blocked them from the entrance. The guy in the middle, with blonde hair, grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt. He looked Sam over and growled.   
“What are you doing here, Evans?” he hissed. “I've seen you around before and you ain't a mutt anymore.”   
“You're one of Jake's boys,” the mutt on the right said.   
Sam chuckled and put his hands on his wrists.   
“I can explain,” he said.   
The blonde haired mutt scoffed. Clenching his jaw, Sam slammed his forehead into the mutt's nose and felt the cartilage sink in with a crunch. The mutt released him and groaned, touching his bridge. Sam shoved him and heard the sound of a beer bottle smashing. Marley reacted as the second mutt charged with his makeshift shiv and punched the mutt in the throat. A crowd gathered around them, mostly of them were drunken mutts unaffected from the fight and cheering.   
“Marley, let's get out of here!” Sam yelled, eyeing the crowd. 

***  
When Santana and Jake arrive back at The Den Quinn is already sitting at the bar with a half finished drink in front of her.   
“Sam and Marley aren't back yet,” Santana noted.   
The door swung open a moment after and Sam fumbled in with Marley. Their clothes were covered in speckles of blood. On Sam's right cheek a tiny nick had already started to heal.   
“What the hell happened to you guys?” Santana asked.   
“Bar fight,” Sam said. “I won't be going back to another fight club again.”   
Jake stepped behind the bar and pulled down a bottle of Jack from the shelf. It was already infused with wolfsbane, but he added some of the powdered herb over the top before handing the cups out.   
“It turns out this guy has someone doing the dirty work for him,” Marley said, sitting on a stool and knocking back her drink. “A recruiter by the name of Bree.”   
“Yeah, and he was offering to pay the mutts that wanted to work with him well,” Sam said.   
“You didn't get his name did you?” Jake questioned.  
“No, but if he has money I'm sure we can find him,” Santana said. “I'll speak with my dad.”   
She chugged down her cup and sighed.   
“I'll speak with my guys tomorrow to see if the name brings up anything,” Jake said. “Right now I'm sure we can all use some rest.”   
Santana looked over to Quinn. She had remained silent and staring at her still half empty drink the entire time. She nudged her on the hip and Quinn turned back to her, her expression perplexed.   
“Is something wrong?” she asked.   
“I need to talk to you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn bit her lip as she followed Rachel through the shop. She's been told very little about Holly and has never gotten the chance to meet her, but she has been Rachel's teacher for years, and according to Rachel, very skilled. Quinn breathed deeply to quell her twisting stomach. They walked past four aisles before reaching the stockroom. Rachel unlocked it and they were surrounded by familiar rows of bottled herbs, potions, books, candles, and petrified animals in jars. At the far end of the room was another door, black and made of metal with a white pentagram painted on it. Quinn had been in the storeroom enough times to have noticed the door before, she'd always thought it went o an office or employee restroom. Rachel placed the tip of her finger on the point of the star and traced it. She whispered a few words in Latin and the mark glowed. The door clicked and swung open. The room it revealed was bare with exposed planks of wood and tools strewn along the floor. There wasn't a single window and from the looks of it no door either. When Quinn looked closer, she realized sigils and symbols decorated the walls.  
“The symbols are to keep demons, ghost, and vampires out,” Rachel said.  
“It's a safe room,” Quinn said, astonished.  
“Ms. Holiday insisted we make one as a precaution in case we're ever attacked,” Rachel said. “It isn't finished yet, as this used to be a spare bedroom on the second floor, but she wants to have the walls covered in four inches of steel with a silver coating and a camera system installed.”   
“She lives here?” Quinn asked.   
“She's inherited many things through the years from her relatives and ancestors. She's on the fourth floor, probably in her study,” Rachel said.  
“Wait, how big is this place?”   
“There are five floors,” Rachel answered.   
“How is this all in your store? It's a one story building,” Quinn questioned.  
“Magic,” Rachel chuckled. “That, and we're technically on another universe, but don't worry, Ms. Holiday has plenty of experience with alternate planes. More than enough to ensure we're not going to collapse into a wormhole.”   
“Is that possible?” Quinn gasped.   
“Like I said, we're safe,” Rachel coaxed. “I've been through here plenty of times. We better get going.”   
Rachel walked over to a sigil and pressed her hand in the center of the circle and a piece of the wall lifted, revealing a door. They stepped into a hall of polished oak wood and deep rich burgundy carpets lit by small chandlers. They rounded a corner where the hall opened into a foyer with a marble grand staircase. Atop the stairs was beautiful stained glass windows that radiated the sun's light in a kaleidoscope of colors.  
“She lives in here?” Quinn asked as Rachel led her up the stairs, “It's like a Tudor mansion.”   
“It's a replica, with modern amenities, but it's real nonetheless,” Rachel said. “I sleep here when I have to head to a play the next day after my shift.”  
“We're not going to walk up five flights are we?” Quinn asked.   
“Luckily, no, the elevator is working today,” Rachel said calling the elevator to them.  
***  
The elevator dinged before it opened and the sign above lit at the number four. They walked down two hallways before stopping at at a white door and Rachel ushered Quinn in. The room had two levels where the space below the balcony had a comfortable looking lounge area, with couches, a table, book shelves, and a fireplace with a TV mounted above it. The door on the balcony opened and a woman with blonde hair appeared wearing a what looked to be a period accurate dress, large elaborate ruff included.   
“Rachel!” she exclaimed, picking up her skirt and scuttling down the steps.   
She pulled Rachel into a hug who seemed to take the woman's attire in stride before she turned to Quinn.   
“Hi, Holly Holiday. You must be Quinn,” Holly said.   
Quinn nodded, still drawn to the gown.   
“It's so nice to finally meet you,” Holly said, “we have so much to talk about.”   
She turned toward the stairs and carefully put a foot on the first steps. She groaned and stepped back down.   
“This thing is a lot more restrictive than I thought it would be,” Holly grumbled.   
She glided a hand down her neck and the entire dress morphed into a t-shirt with jeans. She let out a relieved sigh as she brushed her hands over her jeans.  
“Mr. Norman wanted an authentic costume for his coming birthday, but I don't think I'll be wearing that again,” Holly said. “Oh, he wants to know if you'll come this time, Rachel.”   
“Yes, I'll be free this year,” she said.   
Holly nodded and climbed up the steps, leaving a stunned Quinn behind.  
“Well, where do we begin?” Holly sighed looking back as Quinn scurried to catch up.   
She opened her study. A desk stood in the center with a small couch and a table to the right and six foot shelves overflowing with books and ingredients. Holly stood by the window.   
“Let's start with this,” she said and gestured outside.   
Quinn joined her and looked out into the distance to see a bustling town below her feet. Just outside the manor gate were people dressed in modern clothing coming and going from stores. The stores' signs said they sold cauldrons, ingredients, potions, books. An endless row of buildings related to Wicca practices.   
“What is this?” Quinn asked, getting a little overwhelmed.  
“This is what witches created to live in peace,” Holly said. “There's always been some danger of human fear. As I'm sure you're aware, around the 15th century Europe began to pursue their witch hunts in earnest. The same ways of thinking and fears traveled with them a century later and led to the Salem witch trials.”  
“The remaining witches chose to make a home on another plane?” Quinn asked.   
“It was the only way to be safe and carry on our practices, beliefs, and lineage,” Holly answered. “Those who chose not to were killed or forced to give up or hide their practices.”   
“We have a long history,” Rachel added, “with many years of struggle.”   
Holly turned to her, a finger rested on her chin, studying Quinn.   
“You know what I found so interesting about you?” she asked not waiting for an Quinn to respond before answering. “Rachel told me that you are self-taught. Now, a spell is a combination of chemistry and ritual. You can get the ingredients right, but the odds of getting the ritual perfectly without someone to help teach you is nearly impossible. Unless, it's in your genes. That means that your mother must be a witch.”   
“My mother is an ordinary person,” Quinn said.  
Holly nodded.  
“And that is what you would think, but it's the only way you'd have the powers you have. Magic is very much a 'use it or lose it thing', if it isn't practiced, then, over time your family will lose the ability to use it,” she explained. “Your mother's maternal ancestry must have been one of the few to survive years ago, but at a cost, and could no longer practice, yet here you are with the ability to make spells on your own.”   
“Years ago, my great great grandfather, yes, on my mother's side, was under attack from some hunters,” Quinn said, “they were forced into hiding and met a pack of wolves. Those werewolves had lost their home and were being hunted, nearly into extinction. He took them in and in return they made a pact with my family. They were to always protect us from then on.”   
Holly looked intrigued.   
“A pack that swore an oath to protect your lineage?” she asked, though it was said more as a comment before a smile spread easily. “That's a first for me. You're a lot more interesting than I thought you'd be. Stay for dinner.”   
***  
They took the elevator down to the second floor. They entered one of the bedrooms out of the dozen that were down the hallway. The room was spacious enough for a bed, lounge couches, book shelves, a small desk set in front of a window, and a TV mounted in front of the couches, though it was much smaller than Holly's study.   
“This is where I give private lessons to my students,” Holly said, approaching a bookshelf. “Unfortunately, dinner won't be ready for three hours, but it gives us enough time for you to take your test.”   
“Test?” Quinn repeated.  
Holly nodded, and picked up a small cauldron from the shelf. Rachel rushed to the second shelf and picked up a stack of books. They placed their items on top of the coffee table.   
“Mhm,” Holly said, “I need to give you a few tests to find out what your current power level is. Is there anything you want to tell me before we start?”   
Quinn was quiet a moment, “My results to the spells I cast are... inconsistent.”   
Holly hummed and gave a short nod. She went back to the shelf and gathered a handful of bottles to put next to the cauldron.   
“That's common for a witch in training, and I would expect it from you, being self-taught,” Holly said. “The way Rachel puts it you have a lot of potential. Even more so than herself and I've been teaching Rachel since she was 15. The more you practice the more power a witch can draw to themselves, however, some are born with much easier access than others.”   
She waved Quinn over to the table. She picked up a bottle, looking over the herb and set it back down to pick up another that held a flower inside. She dashed some of the dry plant into the pot. Rachel handed her a small glass bottle of blue liquid which she poured it into the cauldron. Holly was given a spoon and mixed the ingredients before Rachel handed her an empty bottle. The liquid was ladled into the bottle and capped.   
“This is a levitation potion,” Holly said. “Throw it on whatever you'd like to lift. It'll let me gauge how much power you have by how you effect the object.”   
Quinn looked over the blue liquid filled bottle and back at Holly who nodded encouragingly at her.   
“Don't worry, everything in here can be replaced,” Holly said.   
Quinn took a deep breath. She squeezed the bottle, hoping it would push away the heat coiling in the center of her stomach. She scanned the room and settled on a vase of flowers beside the couch. It seemed like it would be less expensive and was much smaller than most of the other objects around the room. She steadily tread toward the end-table, taking deep breaths as she came closer. She chucked the bottle and watched it smash to pieces and cover the vase in its blue liquid. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the vase soared across the room, nearly hitting Holly had she not ducked, and it smashed into the wall behind her. Holly gave her a nod of approval unaffected from the spell.   
“Well, you definitely have more power than the average beginner, that much is sure,” Holly said. “That test isn't enough, though.”   
“I just nearly killed you,” Quinn said, “how is that not enough?”  
“I know you aren't properly trained, that was bound to happen,” Holly explained. “I do know you need to practice more and learn to focus your powers. Basically, that just confirmed what Rachel has been telling me, you're very powerful.”   
Quinn nodded, frowning as she joined Holly back at the desk. Holly placed a white candle on the desk.  
“This is a little more advanced. I want you to light the candle using your powers,” Holly said. “Think of the flame, heat, embers, focus all your energy on giving life to the spark. When you're ready touch the wick.”   
Quinn stared at the candle. She's only ever used spells with the use of ingredients, she didn't even know it was possible to cast magic purely out of sheer will. She squinted, glaring at the wick and touched the candle. It remained unlit. She groaned.  
“It isn't going to work,” Quinn sighed.   
“Give it some time,” Holly said, “this takes a lot of concentration, you need to think about nothing but the candle and the flame.”   
Quinn slowly inhaled, her gaze softening. She examined the candle, waxy white in color topped by an equally white wick. She bit her bottom lip, growing more frustrated the longer she didn't see a flame. Her brows pressed together and Quinn clenched her jaw. A jet of fire shot up from the candle and she stumbled back. The flame grew, increasing in heat and instantly melted the candle. The fire spread, flowing over the wax and starting to eat into the table as smoke started to fill the room.  
“Oh, that's not supposed to happen,” Holly said.  
Rachel gasped, stepping away from the desk.   
“Miss Holiday,” she called, reminding her mentor to act.   
Holly lifted her hand and a stream of water shot out from the middle of her palm to quell the blaze, causing the desk to sizzle and the smoke to dissipate. The looked over the damage of the flames, the wood charred in the center with the strong smell of burning wood in the room. Holly gave another curt nod.  
“You're definitely at a much higher level than average,” she said mostly to herself before turning to address Quinn. “This is amazing! What was your mother's maiden name?”   
Quinn gulped, “That's all you have say to that? I almost burned everything down and killed both of you this time!”   
Holly laughed.  
“You did not, everything was under control,” she said. “The desk can easily be replaced. You're the training of a novice and a ridiculous power level. Accidents are going to happen, and that's okay.”   
Holly left the room with Rachel by her side. Leaving Quinn to gather her thoughts before following them down the hall. They entered another room, it held several chairs around a table and all three of the four walls had built-in floor to ceiling shelves, filled to the top with books. Holly and Rachel both traced the walls of books.  
“I asked about your mother because only women can inherit their power,” Holly said. “There are male witches, but they're not like you, where the power is just there. They aren't born, they train themselves to feel the magic and teach themselves the rituals. Anyone can learn magic. There are those who practice it for years and will only ever reach a fraction of what you just displayed.”   
“I found it,” Rachel said, presenting Holly with a purple leather bound text, that was as thick as two encyclopedias. Holly set the heavy tome on the table and flipped open the cover. Quinn let her curiosity lead her and she followed the women to see what the book contained.  
“This is a record of all the witches registered from the 14th century to the present,” Holly said. “It's a log that the head witch keeps in town, but I have quite a few connections and have my own copy,” she turned to Quinn. “Maiden name?”   
“Williams... But, it was Treadue back when my family first met the wolves.”   
Holly rapidly flipped through the pages. She ran the tip of her finger down the page and walked over to an end table.  
“Here it is,” she said, “you have quite the lineage.”   
Quinn peered down on to the book. It's pages were lined with hundreds of curling cursive signatures in simple black ink.   
“It just has names,” Quinn said.  
“You weren't raised in our community, but every name has a reputation,” Holly said. “Your great great grandmother was a high priestess. That's the highest rank witches have and she is a descendant of a pure blood witch from long before we started recording this book.”   
“So my mother must have known,” Quinn murmured in realization.   
Holly nodded.   
“What does this mean?”   
“Your potential is infinite, power levels others can only dream of,” Holly said. “But, you have to be careful. You know the whole responsibility cliché. I'm also concerned that others will try to use you if news of you gets out.”   
Quinn stepped aside, fear seeping through her chest. She deeply inhaled and placed a hand over her racing heart. How could she have such power but lack the ability to control it? It was beyond dangerous to allow herself to remain untrained with the amount of power she just displayed, but joining this new world meant a new risk. That she might be discovered and used. Her life and Santana's would always be at risk. The thought left her breathless. Rachel approached her, placing a comforting hand on her arm.  
“Are you okay?” she asked gently.   
Quinn licked her bottom lip before biting it and and sighed.   
“Yeah, I...this is a lot of information, a lot to take in,” Quinn said.   
“I understand,” Rachel agreed, “But, I can assure you, that with you under Ms. Holiday's care you can learn to control your powers.”   
“I'm sorry I have to go,” Quinn said abruptly.   
“Alrighty, then, it was nice to meet you, Quinn,” Holly said. “Don't hesitate to call me if anything happens. Rachel will led you out.”   
***

“Can we talk?”   
Santana could see the stress in Quinn's eyes.   
“Yeah, of course, ” she said, leading Quinn toward the stockroom.   
Her friends continued to talk and drink among each other. Santana closed the door and joined Quinn at a crate of stacked wine. She crossed her arms and rubbed the sides of her biceps. Santana felt a flush of concern settle in her stomach.   
“Is something wrong?” Santana asked, gently prodding Quinn to open up.   
Quinn paused, her gaze shifting to a set of boxes across the room, close to the door then back at Santana.   
“You means besides me almost burning down Holly's home?” Quinn asked.   
Santana stepped back, her jaw clenched.   
“What? Okay, I need you to elaborate on that a little more, babe.”   
“I saw Rachel's teacher today,” she said. “After the spell Rachel insisted I see her, so I went. She gave me a few tests. The the first was a levitation potion, that one I nearly took Holly's head. The last one was supposed to be a simple fire spell...”   
“And you nearly barbecued her and Rachel alive?” Santana guessed, finishing Quinn's story for her. Quinn nodded. “I'm going to assume they're still alive.”   
“Yes,”   
“Then what's the issue?” Santana said.   
“San, this is serious,” Quinn said. “Both of those spells were for beginners, but I nearly killed them with the level of power I radiated because I have no control over it.”   
Santana pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. She watched Quinn's shoulders relax and drop in relief as she settled into her arms. Santana brushed a finger through her bangs.   
“I get it. It's terrifying,” she said. “And, yeah, you could have seriously hurt someone, but you didn't, things worked out fine, and now you have Holly to help you.”   
Quinn clenched and unclenched her fists in Santana's shirt.   
“There's more,” she said. “I'm a witch because of my mother and the women before her were witches.”   
“You mean your conservative mother, Judy? Who would've guessed?”   
“Witches have a long history of being hunted, so my family went into hiding. According to the record Holly showed me our line descends from a relative of the first witch,” Quinn sighed.  
“A head honcho type of woman?” Santana asked.   
“And I hold stronger powers that others might want to take or use me for,” Quinn said.   
Santana placed her hands on to Quinn's hips.   
“You're safe here, with us, with me. Do you really think that I or any of our friend would ever let anything happen to you?” Santana assured. “And, we'll deal with this together. I know you'll practice and do great with Holly and you'll learn to control it.”   
“But, we're in danger,” Quinn said.   
Santana chuckled.   
“I'm a werewolf, we're always in a little danger,” Santana said. “And this is no different. We will deal with it together, I promise.”   
Quinn sighed and tucked her head under Santana's chin. Santana felt her shoulders drop again and Santana stroked her hair, holding her until her breathing settled, only for her to flinch when Quinn's phone toned, telling them Quinn had a new message.  
Sighing tiredly, Quinn reached for the guilty piece of technology. Giving it a disappointed guilty frown when she read the message and wearily pulling herself from Santana's arms.  
“What is it now?” Santana asked following Quinn back out towards their friends.  
“It's a reminder of our train tickets,”  
Santana sighed, “With everything that's been happening the last few days, I forgot about that. I'm not really sure that we should be leaving town right now.”  
“I know, me too,” Quinn said sadly. “I was really looking forward to visiting our parents.”  
Jake clears his throat, suddenly right next to them. “You should go, there's not really anything we can do here right now. We've hit a dead end for now and all we can do is ask around some more to see if anyone else is willing to tell us anything. And, you know, we can cover that without you. No offense, Santana, but you're looking a bit worn down. Down time with your family will be a good thing for you.”  
Santana looked like she was going to argue for a moment, but looked to Quinn. Met with an adorably hopeful look from her fiance she smiled, “Looks like we're heading home for the weekend.” Turning back to Jake, “But, you have to call me the moment you guys find anything out.”  
Jake held his hands up in surrender, “I promise, we'll keep you in the loop.”


End file.
